


Last Wish

by lesslyrs



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesslyrs/pseuds/lesslyrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t want to become one of them, Minho, and I sure as hell don’t want you to see it,” Newt kept his voice low, as if it hurt to speak louder. [ What would have happened if Newt had given his little note to Minho instead of Thomas? - This takes place in chapter 15 of The Death Cure around page 73.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Wish

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope this idea has not yet been written or thought out. I've been writing this piece for a long time but only now found the time to finish it.  
> -  
> Please leave COMMENTS! Knowing what you think of my work is what I need in my life ♡  
> -  
> The setting, characters and some of the dialogues don't belong to me but to James Dashner.

The Flare had been moving in him faster than expected due to all the pondering, thinking and decisions Newt had been forced to make. He had been going through hell, stimulating way too much—more than the average person living their life day to day. At least that was what Brenda just said as they were waiting at the weapons’ room for Newt to come back, wherever he had gone.

Minho let out a sigh of frustration, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as they waited. He was worried, but in a situation like this there was absolutely no time for worrying. He looked over at Thomas and frowned slightly.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it until we get somewhere safer.”

Minho opened his mouth and took a breath to reply to that, but before he could, a familiar voice came from the entrance.

“Do about what?”

Minho turned to see Newt in the doorway again, then closed his mouth.

“Nothing, never mind—where’d you go?” Thomas asked, but Newt turned his attention from him over to Minho, and Minho felt his piercing stare like a stab in both eyes.

“I need to talk to you, Minho. Just you. It’ll only take a second.”

 _What now?_ Minho wondered. “What’s this crap?” he managed to say with a frown.

“Just cut me some slack. I need to give something to you here. You and no one else.”

Minho’s frown deepened slightly, and he didn’t even think about it. He shrugged softly. “Whatever,” he said, and adjusted the straps of the Launchers on his shoulders. “But we need to hurry.”

And so, he stepped onto the hall with Newt, puzzled to the bones as to what his friend was thinking if he even still did. The silence was too loud as they walked a few feet away from the door, it being cut only by the _tap tap tap’_ s of their own walking. It was annoying. He didn’t stop to think whether or not to put an end to the horrible silence, so he took a breath to break it.

At the same, Newt spoke, so he himself was quick to shut his mouth and listen to his friend. The seconds were ticking away.

“Stuff this in your pocket,” he said, and only then did Minho notice that he was holding out a small sealed envelope to him. Newt had stopped walking, so Minho followed suit and looked over at him.

“What the shuck is that?” Minho took it and turned it over; it was blank on the outside.

“Just put the bloody thing in your pocket.”

Minho didn’t do as he was told; he kept looking at it, holding it. His face contorted in extreme confusion.

“Look me in the eyes,” Newt snapped his fingers.

Minho did, making a short double-take, and the moment he took in his friend’s expression, he felt his heart stop for a second. Newt’s face had become the personification of anguish.

“What _is_ this?”

“You don’t need to know right now. You _can’t_ know. But you have to make me a promise—and I’m not messing around here.”

He had never seen his friend like this—that was for sure. In two years, he had _never_ seen Newt be so serious over something, or so pained, not even when he climbed up one of the walls and jumped. And it worried him. There was something wrong and it wasn’t only the fact that some shucking disease was eating up his friend’s brain, it was something else he quite couldn’t tell, and it was frustrating him. He felt it in his gut, he saw it in Newt’s eyes, and him not spilling the beans made it worse. He wanted to help, but with Newt keeping his mouth shut, Minho couldn’t do much and that angered him.

“You swear to me that you won’t read what’s inside that bloody envelope until the time is right.”

“’The time—?’ No, no,” Minho started, shaking his head softly. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on, Newt. We were _left behind_ by our friends and the girls, we’re running away from missing guards who are probably waiting to ambush and everyone in the rest-o the world is turning into shucking _Cranks_ ,” he spat the word, and regretted it immediately, but he had already said it and there was no going back from speech. “We don’t have any shucking time for your klunk. Stop trying to make a movie out of this! We have to go, _now_. Stop trying to be so freaking mysterious, it’s getting on my nerves,” he said, looking back at the envelope and frowning at it.

“Would you shut your bloody mouth for a moment? You’re a shucking slint-head, Minho! You say all this klunk but you don’t understand any of it!” Newt shouted, his face turning slightly red, and Minho wasn’t sure if it was from anger or the effort of shouting.

Minho was fidgeting with the envelope, turning it over and over in his hands and pondering on what side to open it from. He was going to open it, no matter what Newt said, and the other boy seemed to notice because the tone in his voice radically changed when he rolled Minho’s name on his tongue.

“Don’t you bloody dare, Minho,” it didn’t sound like a threat this time, it sounded more like a plead, and that made Minho wonder even more what _was_ inside that envelope.

He ripped it open.

Minho saw Newt throw his arms into the air in frustration through the corner of his eyes. He saw him look around and then back at him, and when he took the paper out and his eyes focused on the letters scribbled on it, everything stopped.

_Kill me. If you’ve even been my friend, kill me._

A wave of agony pierced through him and he felt as if someone had punched the air out of him. Minho looked up at Newt, down at the note and back at Newt, the burning feeling of his heart breaking surely showing on his face at his friend’s written request.

“Dude,” Minho said, his words rasping his throat, and he licked his lips. “I just told you we’re running out of time and you’re making stupid jokes. I always knew you weren’t the pranking type, re—“

Newt interrupted him, his pupils trembling with anger as he stared deep into the other’s eyes. “Minho, I’m not messing around here! Why do you have to be so bloody stupid! Can’t you see? I’m a bloody _Crank!_ Sooner or later I’ll be zombie-ing around, existing but not being anything close to a bugging human—“

“Shut your shuck-mouth already and let’s get out of here!” Minho said, raising his voice but not yet screaming. He shook his head as he crumpled the note into a paper ball and threw it away. “I can’t believe you…”

Minho started to turn around in order to go back to the weapons’ room. He saw Thomas lingering by the doorway, fidgeting, but it was a quick flash because just as he started to turn, Newt grabbed him by the arm and turned him back around.

“You go if you want, but not with me. I’ll just be a buggin’ burden! I’m just snappin’ and it comes and goes and I don’t get it! At least I can still think clear. Please Minho, do this favour to me. It’s the only thing I’ll ask.”

“Are you shucking insane? What about everything we’ve been through, huh? We didn’t spend two freaking years in a Maze and ran like crazy chickens after feed, like you said, through the shucking Scorch so that you’d _die._ You’re my friend! I’m not letting you here, or anywhere, and I’ll certainly not kill you!”

“I’m not well, Minho. And we all know that this buggin’ cure will never come. I’ll die anyway of this stupid Flare. I don’t want to become a bloody cannibal, Minho! Don’t be so bloody selfish and let me die with decency! Don’t you understand?”

“No, Newt, I don’t understand,” Minho said. “You’re gonna whine and cry while you go crazy and that’s fine because you’re gonna do it with us.”

“Why can’t you get this through your bloody head? If you had the Flare and knew what you were about to go through, would you want me and everyone else to stand around and watch? Huh? Would you want that?”

Thomas popped his head out to peek. How much time had it been since they left to talk and would “only take second”?

“Guys, we should…”

“Shut your mouth and get back inside! We aren’t done yet!” Newt screamed. It was like he had become a whole different person. He changed completely within a second, from being frustrated at him to full-on angry at Thomas; his face turned bright red from the anger, the veins by his temples and on the neck popped up and spit flew from his mouth when he yelled.

Thomas winced. The hurt from Newt’s words could be seen plastered on his face and he looked down for a second, only to look back up at them and say “just make it quick, we need to leave,” and disappear through the doorway again.

When Minho turned back from giving Thomas a glance, he pursed his lips, licked them, let out a heavy, thoughtful sigh and added.

“We gotta get goin’.”

Newt reached and curled his fingers around Minho’s bicep, frowning, but didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to—Minho could see the words Newt wanted to say flash through his eyes and he looked down at the hand on his arm.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice was so low, weaker than a whisper, and Minho simply couldn’t take it.

“No, Newt. Why are _you_ doing this?” He yelled, yanking his arm free from Newt’s hold. “You’re saying that I’m being so shucking selfish but you’re the one that’s asking me that bullshit!” He pointed at the crumpled note on the floor, staring intently at his friend.

“I don’t want to become one of them, Minho, and I sure as hell don’t want you to see it,” Newt kept his voice low, as if it hurt to speak louder.

“Then I guess your last wish won’t become a thing, dude. You’re being ridiculous, let’s go _now_ ,” Minho said with his brows furrowed deeply and turned around. He stopped, and after a second he turned back to his friend as the sound of the launcher being loaded rang in his ears. “Dude, you seriously wouldn’t threaten me with tha—“

He froze, the only movement the one of his eyes widening as he saw Newt not pointing the gun to him in a threatening way, but Newt pointing the gun to himself, under his chin.

“Woah woah man, what the shuck are you doing? Put that down, dude. Put it down, don’t be…” The words got stuck in his throat. He was scared- he wanted to say how much he knew he wouldn’t dare, but he didn’t really know it. He wasn’t sure, and that scared him.

“Just… Shut your bloody trap, okay? Don’t call Thomas, or Brenda, or whoever,” Newt said, holding the launcher awkwardly with his arm stretched to reach the trigger while pointing the weapon under his chin. His expression was hard as a rock, but his voice was softer than a dandelion. “I… Minho, you have seen those _things,_ ” he said in a whisper, and Minho winced at the sight of his friend’s face twitching with terror and desperation. “I don’t want to be one of them. I really don’t…”

“Then come with us! Let’s get outta here and get things done quicker!”

“Remember that time when I tried to jump off the wall?” Newt’s voice was barely audible as he looked down to the ground,” Minho flinched, his heart felt as if it had broken into a million pieces.

“Newt…”

“That time I wished I had climbed higher, collided harder. It was embarrassing, not achieving it and ending up with a bugging limp,” He dragged his eyes back up to meet with Minho’s, and he hitched a breath at the sight of his friend looking so pained by his words. A tear rolled down Newt’s cheek. “This time I won’t feel embarrassed- I will do it bloody right. If you can’t do me this favour, I’ll do it for myself and it won’t be like the last time.”

He looked so determined Minho just couldn’t take it. He bit down on his lower lip hard and he tasted his own blood. For the first time in forever, he felt like he had nothing to say, and he didn’t.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, surprised he actually made an intelligible noise even.

Newt licked his lips and forced the tiniest of the smiles; Minho wasn’t sure if that little smile was actually there or he was just imagining it lingering there.

“Thanks for the good times in the maze. Thanks for being my friend. Tell Thomas he’s a good guy, too. I hope you find a way out.”

“What if there really is a cure, Newt? We can get to it!”

“Bye, Minho.”

There was a loud noise that echoed through the halls. Minho flinched and closed his eyes shut, not ready to see what would happen, not ever. But he couldn’t turn away from the noise, that loud noise that would be stuck in his head for the rest of his life, and the feeling of something warm sprinkling on his face. He heard Thomas hurry out and cry out Newt’s name, then Minho’s, but it all was in slow motion.

And with his heart falling into a black abyss, Minho dropped on his knees.


End file.
